


Let me Remix a Snowstorm's Feelings

by SomethingSomeone



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, Established Relationship, Multi, Slight Alcohol Mentions, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Swearing, not from the main pairing tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-10-29 05:07:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17801582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingSomeone/pseuds/SomethingSomeone
Summary: The famous DJ, Blu Panther, comes to New York in another one of his great tours. Not knowing what's going on is the worst case scenario for a journalist, and as much as Toshiro wanted to deny it, going to a mystery concert with Rangiku had been one of her best ideas. Who would've thought that a neon party could change his life to such an extent? Let's face it, no one ever imagined that wild, loud and messy would be Hitsugaya's type of... "dateable" person. And now, he's got a candidate to test: the aspiring DJ, Moon Berry.Let the concert begin!





	1. Madness Begins with Neon

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, welcome to the DJ AU! This story has been planned up to a certain extent, but might get longer if I find it necessary. Two of the mentioned pairings are established, but the main one is what got us here in the first place, so it'll develop with time and care! More tags and characters will be added as the story unfolds, so stay tunned for any major changes.
> 
> Now, please enjoy the concert!

Calm, cold wind refreshed the office of the News' Director, Toshiro Hitsugaya, and he relaxed his tense shoulders after feeling it. Hours of paperwork can take a tool on anyone, even on people obsessed with work. Add to that his subordinates' lazyness (excluding Hisagi, he was a respectable member of his group), and lack of working spirit, and you got a stressed out, heavily tired prodigy boss who should be looking for a better job. However, his salary was quite decent, maybe even too high for his liking, but as long as it kept him living, it was good enough. He had a nice quantity to use on... non-work-related activities, but Toshiro rarely left his humble apartment if it wasn't for either his job or his casual groceries.

A scream of joy filled the office as soon as Matsumoto almost crashed the door open. She had a wild grin on her face, her eyes also showing her excitement. Toshiro sighed and looked up from the latest article he'd been reading, and gestured for her to speak. Hisagi, Renji and Rukia, all of them members of his team, also showed up behind his secretary.

  - Boss, you _have_ to give us a day off tomorrow, please! We won tickets for an exclusive concert, we can't possibly miss this chance!!- the woman almost squaled at the thought, her body reflecting her overflowing emotions. Beside her, Hisagi straightened his back and coughed slightly in discomfort.

  - Matsumoto, first of all, calm down. What was it?

  - Oh, we never told you!? Renji, you were supposed to let him know too!

Said man took a step back, startled.

  - Y-you didn't- you didn't tell me the Boss was invited! I- _we_ thought this was private!

  - Speak for yourself, Renji. We knew it wasn't.- Rukia cut him off with an evidently satisfied smirk on her face at seeing her partner get so worked up for such a simple thing.

  - Rukia!!

  - That's enough, everyone. You should be conscious of this by now, but you can't have a day off this week.- The white haired Director adjusted his glasses before continuing, professionalism splattered all over his cold voice - We must have a full report ready for Friday, after the President gives his monthly speech on Wednesday. Everything is already planned; I was even going to dispatch you two, Abarai and Kuchiki, to cover things in-situ. Also, I need Madarame here, I can't publish his article if he only talks about the Boxing tournament. People want to know about Baseball too-

  - Nope! That's as far you go, Boss!

  - Huh?

Even though Matsumoto could be a pain sometimes, she was still a respectful and diligent worker by the end of the day... thus the reason why Toshiro was taken back by her sudden outburst.

  - ...Huh?- he repeated, disbelieving. -What do you mean by that?

  - We're all going out. Together. This whole department got tickets for a very exclusive, very cool concert, and we're going, whether you want it or not, Boss!

  - Matsumoto, you can't just-

  - I already spoke to Mister Ukitake. We got green light. We just need you to confirm the day off.

Rangiku's smug grin, Hisagi's rigid stance, Renji's pleading eyes and Rukia's confident smirk told him everything he didn't want to hear.

Toshiro breathed out heavily and brought his hands to his temples, massaging them slightly. After three tense minutes, he spoke up. 

  - I can't. Possibly. Give you. A day. Off. 

  - Director, why not just... leave early tomorrow? 

Hisagi's rather timid voice got everyone's attention. His partners smiled in relief when Toshiro brought his hand to his chin, deep in thought. It was almost like a reflex when someone was winning an argument against him. 

  - So? How does that sound, Boss?

  - ...well... if we can manage to get everything in place before the deadline... and be ready for the speech, the day after... I don't know, it sounds too risky...

  - Sir, we promise, everything will be fine. We all need a rest once in a while, and this could also work as a bonding exercise. You've been working a lot. You deserve this.- Now Rukia was actively joining the discussion, which put Toshiro with his back against the wall.

She was the President's little sister-in-law, after all. If he refused enough to make her worry, Mister Kuchiki would enter the picture and force him to go out on vacation. He was capable of it, and _would_ do it, if Rukia just seemed mildly concerned about him.

He was defeated.

  - ...you have permission to leave past 5pm., but I want all of your papers ready and on my desk before that happens. If I'm missing _only_ one of them, no one's getting out of this office.

  - Yes sir!- was the simultaneous cry in response. Rukia did a quick high-five with Matsumoto, and Hisagi tiredly went to speak to Renji about some unknown subject, to which the redhead answered by putting his hand on Hisagi's shoulder and muttering something back to him.

What a way to start his Monday.

♤

What a way to finish his damned Tuesday.

He had an unknown drink on his right hand, a glowing white and blue stick on his left hand, strange facepaint bothering his eyes, a screaming woman by his side, two arguing grown up males behind him, and three people missing in action after going to buy more drinks. His "going out" couldn't possibly get worse.

Correction, it got worse. The lights began to dim down, leaving only the ultraviolet illumination on, and just then he noticed his facepaint shining alongside everyone else's. He was different, though, thanks (or curse) to his white hair, which shone particularly bright against the new environment he was in. Matsumoto, already drunk, laughed at this, while Ikkaku screamed at Yumichika to stop complaining about the facepaint he had gotten. 

  - So, what's the full list of artists coming to-? 

  - No one knows, no one cares!!!- screamed his secretary- no, just "companion"- at him. He sighed and took a small sip at his drink, frowning at the distinct taste of Vodka. Not exactly his favorite. 

"Ya'll better get your claws OUT!!" 

A scream tore through the speakers, and everyone cheered after hearing it. Several people brought their blue glowsticks up, and Toshiro decided to just follow their example by raising his, too. Matsumoto, however, pouted after noticing that her stick was orange instead of blue. 

  - Aw, I can't raise mine just yet! I gotta wait for it! 

  - Wait for what? 

Toshiro's question was never answered. Instead, he received a sudden roar from the speakers, and the public once again cheered while smoke covered the stage. A large DJ platform emerged from it, alongside a blue haired man covered by shadows. Behind him, the screen lit up with a symbol resembling the right side of an animalistic skull, though it seemed to be only the jaws of it. 

  - Roar for me, jungle!!- he yelled, before being lit up by more ultraviolet lights, revealing shining blue facepaint that resembled a panther, alongside tribal markings all over his body. Excitement was evident in the public, as they screamed at him just as ordered. Even Toshiro's companions followed his lead. He couldn't find it in himself to do it, though.

  - Alright, I see ya'll are ready for what's coming, huh? Are ya'll feeling it tonight!?

People were yelling and shouting all around Toshiro, and he could feel his incoming headache approaching at light speed. Who was this man? The young Director couldn't recognize his features, even though he knew he had seen that long, wild blue hair before somewhere, perhaps in an article or interview from his early days... he also had a shining white "thing" covering the right side of his face, quite similar to the logo projected on the screens.

  - Matsumoto, who's... him?- Hitsugaya tried to ask his friend among feral screams and cheers. She didn't seem to hear him; instead, Yumichika was the one to answer.

  - Boss, that's Blu Panther. He's a famous DJ from Europe, Spain, if I'm correct.

Ah. So that was his distinct foreign accent. The man was Spanish.

  - Famous, you say? How famous?

  - Well, he broke a ten-year record with his third single, overthrowing Barragan Gang's top song "Respira". In this business, he's currently the best. You really don't know him?

Toshiro shook his head in denial, but before he could speak one more word with his friend, another chorus of deafening shouts got his attention.

Blu Panther was talking about some random subject before starting, and Toshiro couldn't help but listen to him for the time being. 

  - So, I see ya'll've been waiting long enough for this. I just wanna say, before hell breaks loose, that I missed this city so much, ya'll. On my first tour, I remember how much love I got from ya'll. It's my turn to give it back this time!- he laughed loudly before continuing- Let's get the party started! Show me your Baddest!! 

  - I love that song!- squealed Rangiku, out of nowhere.

  - He didn't- what?

  - Show me your Baddest! It's one of his top 5!!

Dumbfounded, confused and lost, Toshiro almost passed out when the ear-splitting bass tore through the rainbow-coloured speakers. A few seconds later, Blu had climbed up on the platform (an act the Director considered very dangerous), and had begun jumping on it with both his hands raised, as if taunting the audience to scream even more. Different sounds mixed in a mess of vibrations and lights, until, as Ikkaku so diligently described it, "the bass dropped hard as fuck". For Toshiro, those two minutes were a complete haze of pain in his eardrums.

He was done. He needed fresh air. 

◇ 

As quickly as he could, ignoring the calls of protests from his companions, he rushed outside the stadium, his drink long forgotten inside, and gasped for oxygen when he finally stopped his race and found himself face to face with empty, cold streets, the parking lot reflecting silence itself. 

He breathed in and out, trying to calm himself down. This had been a terrible idea. He hated concerts. He hated crowds of unorganized, uncivilized people. He hated his team for bringing him there, and hated himself for being such a pain to them. 

He made up his mind and searched for his keys. He was going home. There was nothing left for him inside that stadium, but there could be some fine tea waiting for him in his living room. 

Just as he was about to turn around and go look for his car, he bumped against a hooded figure that was passing by.

His instincts flared inmediately, making him take out his very reliable pepper spray. With firm hands, he pointed it towards the man. A dark figure like that, out so late in the middle of the streets, could never be a good signal. 

  - Whoa, whoa, calm down, put that thing away! 

The man raised his hands in a calming motion, his face contorted in confusion. Toshiro thought about it for a second, then slowly began to lower his arms. He never took his hands away from the spray, though. 

  - Identify yourself.- he stated, serious. 

  - Oh, a cop? Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I was just... taking a breather before the show.

Toshiro squinted his eyes in the darkness and managed to see some orange facepaint on the other man's chin. He was also splattered with it on his skinny jeans and sneakers, although it seemed strange that only he was so dirty compared to the rest of the people.

  - You're watching the concert? 

  - Sort of. Do you need my ID...? I have to get back in though. 

The smaller man sighed in resignation before finally putting the spray back into his pocket. 

  - Well... I’m not actually a cop, so do whatever you want... 

  - Hey, you were watching Grim- I mean, Blu Panther too, weren't you? You got some facepaint on too... 

  - I... I was. But I'm leaving. This place isn't for me. 

The man seemed shocked by his response, and quickly searched for the right thing to say. 

  - How can you be so sure it's not for you? How long have you been in there?

Toshiro didn't answer. 

  - Hey, maybe you just needed a breather, like me. Music is for everyone, why not give it a second chance? 

He still didn't say anything. Internally, the young man was getting increasingly anxious every second. He had a strange feeling regarding this stranger, and the more he spoke, the more confused he felt about it.

  - ...let's go in together? How does that sound?

The Director turned around sharply, locking eyes with the stranger with a dumbfounded expression. It wasn't an invitation as if treating him like a kid; someone who felt as left out as him was trying to talk him out of it like a human being. 

He wasn't forcing him to go in. He wasn't demanding anything from him. He was gently inviting the Director to go back to the concert, comprehending full well his current state of mind. 

Toshiro felt good around this man. That was it. 

  - ...alright. I'll go. 

  - Cool! Let's go, then! 

Without wasting one more second, the taller man strolled towards the enormous building, Toshiro hardly catching up to him. They silently walked together until they reached the main entrance, from where the unknown man waved him farewell and walked in through another way. 

When the short Director tried to follow him inside, he was stopped by two real cops. He figured it must've been a VIP area, restricted for common people with common tickets. 

He went back to his place with Rangiku not so long after, though not before going out of his way and bringing his three missing soldiers from the drinks section. He dragged a drunk Renji, scolded a half-drunk Hisagi, and glared at an innocent looking Rukia. 

Just when he was sitting down, he saw a rather beautiful woman walking into the scenario, gently guided by Blu. He introduced her as a rookie singer that had helped him compose his next track. 

  - So ya'll should be ready, Orihime is gonna teach ya'll how a REAL singer should sound like! Ready, Princess? 

The red-haired woman nodded, a sweet smile adorning her face. A member of the staff went and gave her a personal microphone, before Blu turned on the bass and got ready for the show. 

  - Tokyo Huntress, featuring Inoue! 

♧

Two hours later, there were almost no survivors among the public. Most people were drunk by that point, someone along the way had passed out and had to be helped by a few paramedics, and Rukia had left the place after she received a call from her brother-in-law telling her to report inmediately at a certain clinic.

And Toshiro? He wasn't angry, and he wasn't even complaining about the loud volume anymore. 

He was simply bored. 

  - How long until it's over, Rangiku? 

The woman smiled, her flushed cheeks being evident in the darkness, and then giggled. 

  - I got no fucking idea! 

  - Language! Geez, for the love of- 

He couldn't finish his sentence before being once again interrumpted by an outburst from the speakers. The lights shifted in color, going from the wild blue to a bright orange, and half the public seemed to reawaken at that moment. 

  - It got late, don't ya'll think? 

A loud cheer confirmed the question coming from Blu. 

  - Alright, I've gotta wake ya'll up somehow... or how about I get someone else to do it!? 

  - Yes! Yes! Yes!- Matsumoto raised her glowing orange stick alongside most of the crowd, her eyes gleaming in excitement. Looking around, most of Toshiro's partners were in a very similar fashion. 

  - I remember when we first did a tour together, this good friend of mine managed to steal all looks away from me. Guess what, we were expecting ya'll to repeat that first experience and give the end of this concert your greatest cheers! 

Several excited murmurs and fangirls' screams crossed the stadium, anticipation and eagerness reflected perfectly on the public. 

"Another guest, huh..." 

  - Ya'll, give us your best shout! Moon Berry's here!! 

There was an explosion of dramatic smoke, two columns of fire rising on either side of the stage. A melody completely different from any of Blu's previous tracks filled the place, and the enormous screen behind it lit up with a different symbol: it looked like an M and a B, entwined together by the sharp form of a waning moon. After a minute of suspense and screams of raw emotions, a shadow rose on the DJ platform, Blu Panther standing down and waving at the crowd. 

The smoke cleared, and as Rangiku yelled the DJ's name over and over, Toshiro's breath was caught in his throat. 

An orange haired man stood tall, his arms crossed and his expression smug. Orange neon marks went from his face down to his arms and to his bared chest, a full circle drawn on the middle of it, perhaps an imitation of a full moon. The only distinct clothes that he wore were some tight pants and a pair of sneakers, equally splashed with neon paint. 

  - Hey, New York!! 

The white-haired Director exhaled softly, his eyes focused exclusively on Moon Berry. 

He was suddenly sweating. He felt too hot. He hated feeling hot. But for some reason he refused to move. His eyes were fixated on the new DJ, and he was _not_ taking them off him. 

"Berry" smiled widely, and made a heart shape with both his hands before jumping down the stage. He grabbed his professional headphones and swung them around his arms before settling them on his head, paying close attention to the music inside while he manouvered his hands swiftly among the pitch, volume and bass controls. Blu Panther didn't wait long to take action, and he soon joined Berry in the large table, getting both ready to mix up some of their best tracks. 

  - Nice to see you again, New York!- Berry yelled again, this time his tone a little more controlled. -Did you miss me? Did you? 

He got cheers in response. Toshiro just stared in awe. 

  - Glad to hear you did! I missed you too!- for some reason, Hitsugaya felt good after hearing those words, even if they weren't exactly directed at him. -Now, Blu, what do you say we mess up the party a little? You up for a versus? 

There was a general "Ooooh!" that increased in volumen and pitch the longer it lasted. Blu turned around sharply, looking at Berry with a strange glare. For a second, he removed his personal microphone from his mouth. 

  - What are you doing?- he snapped. 

  - Challenging you.- replied a smug DJ Berry, also putting his microphone away. 

  - This isn't- we weren't supposed to do that. We can't just improvise! 

  - We can and we will.- he winked, stuck out his tongue, then went back to addressing the public.-You want it, you let me know! Come on, let me know! 

Blu found himself cornered by a loud stream of shouts and pleas from his audience. "Versus! Versus! Versus! Versus!". And Berry wasted no time in making it worse. 

  - Versus it is!! 

Said and done, he began to mess around with the laptop connected to the sound system, opening a file that Blu had never seen before. He had to remain professional, however, and unknown to the people watching them, he put on his most feral grin, one of his unique reflexes when he was absolutely anxious. He would have to trust Berry on this one. 

Back down among the seats, something was taking form around Toshiro. The atmosphere felt different, somehow; was that the reason why it was getting harder to breathe? He felt himself burn up with an undeniable blush plastered on his cheeks. Panicked, he covered them with his hands, his eyes now shifting between the floor, his friends, and the new DJ. Although he only had clear focus on _him_ , he still tried to regain control over his senses and bring his mind back on track. What if Rangiku saw him like that? Oh, she would never let him live it down. How her Boss got so drunk he lost himself at the end of a DJ concert. Was he drunk though? He couldn't be sure, he hadn’t drunk anything after the Vodka-

Something soft and melodious snapped him out of his wild train of thoughts. Something beautiful finally reached his ears, and as he let himself flow with it, his body visibly relaxed more and more, until it no longer was a mess of sweat and alcohol.

It was music. He was listening to actual music. 

This marvelous moment was interrupted by a sudden reverberance of tech sounds. He recognized that as... the whole concert. That was Blu. The only one who could make such a mess of noise was Blu Panther. And even when the world around him admired him and cheered for more, for a harder bass drop, for greater solos, Toshiro knew he just wanted him to leave. 

The one responsible for his brief moment of peace was undoubtely Moon Berry, and the Director wanted to hear _his_ music. 

No, not just his music. He wanted to see him, he wanted to hear his voice, to be addressed by him, to be taunted by him, to be... with him. 

" _Oh. Oh, no. Oh my God. No._ _Oh no._ " 

Toshiro realized, a little too late, that going to that concert was probably the worst choice he had made in his life. 

He had fallen in love. 

With a freaking DJ. 

◇ 

Morning came, accompained with a sweet, horrifying migraine. Toshiro sat up and rubbed his temples tiredly, barely opening his eyes and trying to adjust them as quickly as possible to the darkness. The first thing he noticed was that he was on his couch, back at his small apartment. A used glass was calmly standing on his dinning table, dirty streaks of dried wetness covering its bottom. 

  - What...?- he yawned, before trying to stand up fully. It took him a few minutes, time in which the dim morning lights that filtered through his open courtains intensified rather quickly. He made his way over to the table and smelled the glass, expecting the distinct feeling of an alcoholic liquor or, at least, the intolerable fragrance of Rangiku's perfume. 

His nose met something completely different. Orange juice. 

Just what the hell happened after the concert? 

His mind was almost blank. He remembered the lights, the beautiful melody that filled his ears after... Berry. The DJ. The lights, the alcohol. The neon, the not-neon, the dance, the sweat. _The heat_. He remembered a chain of blurry images and clear feelings, before things faded to black. That was about it; his mind refused to cooperate anymore than that, and as his migraine increased, so did his frustration. 

He had to make a call to the only person he knew that could possibly help him in his current situation. 

  - 6:18 am...? She should be up by now... I'm going to interrupt her skincare routine, ugh...- Toshiro hesitated before picking up his phone, but once it was lit up by his touch, he couldn't stop himself anymore. He dialed one of the first contacts that came up on the screen, the rather awkward photo of his colleague in a bikini filling his wallpaper instantly. 

A tired voice picked up on the other side, quicker than Toshiro would've liked. 

"Hello? Boss, is it you?" She yawned loudly, and the Director almost did it for a second time. "What's up? It's too early for work, ya' know..." 

  - Good morning, Miss Rangiku.- he replied, his tone controlled for the situation - I have a question regarding- 

"Drop the formalities, come on, we just went to a concert together..." 

  - I- wha- Rangiku don't interrupt me when I'm talking! 

"Don't interrupt my beauty sleep then!" 

  - Can't you simply answer me the damn question!? What happened at the end of the concert!? 

"Oh! Oh! Oh! You don't _know_!? Boss this is going to be your GREATEST gossip!" 

Dread settled firm on Toshiro's stomach, a knot of anxiety sealing his lungs. He didn’t want to hear what was coming next. But he knew he had to. 

  - What... happened? 

"Boss I swear, you were so incredibly drunk that you suddenly passed out! Right when Moon Berry walked down the stage and tried to take your hand, you fell on his arms and you made a huge mess! You can't possibly not remember!" 

Rangiku continued her rambling, but Toshiro tuned her out. It couldn't be, that was just impossible. He couldn't have... no, God please no. 

  - Matsumoto. 

The woman shut her mouth at the mention of her name which such a tone. 

"Yes, Boss? You OK?" 

  - I didn't drink that much last night. I threw away the Vodka. 

He was met with a long silence, and after a while, the muffled sound of things being moved on the other side filled the line. He swore he heard someone else talking, probably her husband, but paid it no mind. Toshiro was on the precipice of defeat. He wanted to pass out. He wanted to not believe what Rangiku told him. 

"Right, Boss, you still there? I'm getting dressed, and I hope you're ready when I go to pick you up."

  - What? Why? Pick me up for what? 

"I'm taking you to the hospital, obviously. What happened last night wasn't normal, you could be sick-" 

  - I'm not sick, Rangiku. Or not the kind of sickness you think.

Silence again, and now Toshiro heard a distinct voice on the other side asking Matsumoto if he should be taking the car out in the meantime. She told him to hold on for a second before going back to the telephone. 

"Toshiro, you're worrying me a lot. Could you explain yourself a little better? Please?" 

  - I... no, first things first, who drove me home? Someone had to carry me all the way here. Who was it? 

"Are you sure you're feeling Ok?" 

  - Rangiku. Who drove me home?- he almost spat the words at her, his stress catching up to his mouth. 

The woman made a few sounds with her mouth, as if hesitating her next words. 

"I'm sorry, we... oh..." 

The male voice came back, asking her if she was fine. Toshiro noticed that the conversation became suddenly muffled, indicating someone was blocking the microphone with a hand. When he heard the hand being taken away, he got ready to face Rangiku again. Instead, he got someone else. 

"Hello? Mister Hitsugaya? I'm Gin Matsumoto, Rangiku's husband. I may know the result of last night's concert." 

The Director could feel the man's peculiar presence through the line, and quickly put up his professional façade as a response. 

  - I would appreciate it if you could give me more information about last night's events. 

"Ha, as expected from such an important Director. I admire your professionalism, Mister Hitsugaya. But going back to the subject at hand, the only thing I know is that, when I went to pick Rangiku up, your whole team was showing signs of a heavy hangover. Two of them were unable to stand up, and the third one took a taxi before you left the place, carrying a fourth member." 

  - In what state was I at the moment? 

"You were being tended to by the paramedics. As far as I know, you were passed out." 

  - Did you see who brought me to my home? Or at least, who drove my car? 

"The last person I saw that approached you was a hooded man." 

 _Hooded?_  

  - Do you remember what his clothing looked like? 

"I'm a detective, Mister Hitsugaya. That's my specialty. I could send you a quick sketch of it, if you wish to see it?" 

  - Yes, please. It would be... helpful. 

"No problem. If I may ask, sir... could my wife excuse herself from work today?" 

  - I'm sorry, she can not. She made a promise in exchange for that event. 

The Director could feel the sigh that escaped Gin's lips, and he, too, sighed tiredly. 

  - ...I could let her leave earlier today, though. When her job is done. 

"I would appreciate that, sir. Thank you. I'll send the photo you need as soon as I can." 

A quick exchange of farewells was given after this, and Toshiro hung up first. He then went to snatch a bag of ice from his fridge and secured it on his forehead for a few minutes. Leaving it aside for a moment, he began to do a few chores around his apartment, such as cleaning the forgotten glass, checking his room for any missing objects and taking a quick shower. 

When he went back to the living room, he heard a ping coming from his cellphone. Paranoia acting up, he quickly grabbed it and checked for any new messages. He had one, but from Rukia. She was excusing herself from work. Cue, her newborn nephew. Toshiro almost threw his cellphone at the wall, frustration being a major factor in the action, self control being the only thing stopping him from doing so. As if sensing his anxiety, the ping was heard once again, this time signaling the arrival of a message from Rangiku. 

It was the sketch. 

Toshiro quickly opened the attached image and scanned every corner of it. Skinny jeans, big hood, tall stature... orange sneakers. Splattered with paint. 

He knew how to connect two dots together. He was a genius, after all; he could connect an image to a word and a phrase to a context. The hooded man at the parking lot was the same as the one who (probably) drove him home. That wasn't the thing that put him on his nerves, no. 

It was the fact that "hoodie guy" could potentially be DJ Moon Berry himself. And that thought was enough to make him pass out right when he should've been on his way to work. 

And so, Director Toshiro Hitsugaya was thrown into the inescapable void of feelings that he had tried so hard to seal off when he was younger. 

He had fallen in love, and there was no way to deny it this time. 

…How the hell was he going to get out of his mess, though? 

♡


	2. He, who is not a stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As things get out of hand for DJ Moon Berry, he decides to do the unthinkable and let his true self show for a while. Was it a good idea to do so? He wishes he could ask someone for the right answer.
> 
> Or, in his simple act of kindness, he might've ruined his life.

Strong lights shifted from blue to orange, and Moon Berry got ready behind the scenes. He jumped a few times to get rid of the accumulated excitement, moving his arms wildly around him. He felt a hand pat his shoulder, and he turned around to see his brother encouraging him to walk into the stage.

\- Go say hi to yer audience, Berry- He whispered in his ear, his wild aura filling his tone -They're waitin' for ya'.

The orange-haired DJ chuckled, then gave a quick thumbs up before turning to face the scenario.

He remembered New York's audience. They were one of his first international concerts, after all; even if he was just a "rookie" by that time, the response his tracks got was better than anything he had expected. At some point before that concert he had even gotten the idea of a booing crowd yelling at him to get off the stage, a thought that he permanently kept in secret. Not even his brother could know that he was still afraid, even now, when he was playing with the big boys as an equal.

Moon Berry had learned to turn his panic into excitement. That was his greatest weapon.

\- Ya'll, give us your best shout! Moon Berry's here!!  
  
That was his cue to make his entrance. The rumble of the smoke machines and the loud explosive noise of the fire makers brought a flow of adrenaline to be released into his veins, and he practically jumped onto the stage, emerging from the shadows with his best pose.

\- Hey, New York!!- he screamed, pure emotion in his words. The cheers he received back just fueled his already rocketing excitement, and without exactly thinking, he made a heart shape with his hands and showed it to the public, who in response yelled even louder. He was sure he heard a few high pitched squeals.

\- Nice to see you again, New York!- he said after jumping back onto solid ground and facing everyone with his arms wide open.

-Did you miss me?- he gave a soft laugh that the microphone missed. -Did you?

The cheers he got in response made his heart become noticeably louder, so much that it felt like drums in his ears. He didn't care. He was happy. Unconsciously, his body moved and placed his earphones on his head, a crazy idea forming in his mind.

\- Glad to hear you did! I missed you too!- these words came from the bottom of his soul, honesty overtaking his control over the supposedly planned script. He suddenly turned towards his friend, and with the face of an overly excited child, he spoke to both him and the audience. -Now, Blu, what do you say we mess up the party a little? You up for a versus?

Blu locked unbelieving eyes with him and quickly removed his microphone from his mouth.

\- What are you _doing_!?- he almost spat the question.

\- Challenging you.

\- This isn't- we weren't supposed to do that. We can't just improvise.- Blu Panther's severe tone had no effect on Berry. His adrenaline had gotten the best of him and he wasn't stopping now.

\- We can and we will.- now he addressed the public -You want it, you let me know! Come on, let me know!

The pleas that followed sealed the decision, and against a clearly unsure Blu Panther, Berry began to look for the file he had prepared while shouting a response to the expecting people.

\- Versus it is!!

He opened the file and checked the connection to the mixer table. He saw Blu come closer and take a look at it, and Berry gave him a quick explanation of which parts belonged to whom.

\- I made it color coded, see? Blue is you, orange is me. Easy! No?

His friend slowly nodded, anxiety reflected behind his eyes, and he cracked his knuckles preparing for the fight.

\- I trust you. If anything goes wrong...

\- Nothing will go wrong. Don't worry!

Music began to fill the stadium, and Blu recognized a strange smile in Berry's face thanks to his neon painting. That smile was the equal of puppy eyes for Moon Berry, and putting his best feral grin on, Blu Panther followed him in the showdown.

Arms up, quick jumping, loud laughs and earbreaking sounds. Moon Berry felt his rush of adrenaline disappear as quickly as it appeared, but he never let it show. When he felt his mouth go dry, he gestured for a staff member to bring him a glass of water, the only non-alcoholic drink they had available at the moment. If there was something he wouldn't do, it would be to drink alcohol. He couldn't find it more repulsive. Blu, on the other hand, asked for a refill of his classic red plastic vase with more beer. Berry didn't catch the response he got, but something disturbed him and Blu grabbed his shoulder, bringing him closer.

\- Got a small thing ta' take care of. Show 'em your talent, Berry.

In the blink of an eye, his friend had left he stage and was shouting at someone behind the scenes about some stupidity. Seeing a chance, the orange-haired DJ raised his hands and called for the crowd to show him what they wanted.

That was actually Berry's usual modus operandi. He liked to please people in his concerts. He wanted to give them what they wanted, he wanted to give them his best. Make them fall in love with the sound of music. That was the main reason of him taking this path in his life.

He casually looked down from the platform, and something catched his attention. Among the mass of cheering people, there was a clear space of shining white. He recognized it as hair; it took him a second to see clearly the person to whom that hair belonged to. It was the man from the parking lot, standing there in the best seat at the front line.

For some reason, his heart stammered with excitement. There was a person in the audience that was more important. He remembered the encounter vividly: they both felt like left outs during that conversation. Now he had a lapsus to show someone the beauty of music. He had given the concert a second chance, and he wasn't going to screw it up.

\- Here we go, then! I'll give you all a taste of a new track!- loud cheers followed, but his eyes were focused on White Hair. He didn't even budge.

\- Alright! "Heaven Piercer"!!

Moon Berry had wanted to save that new composition for a special moment. He didn't care when or where, he had just been waiting for the right second to play it live for the first time. And he felt like that exact moment was right there and then.

So he let the melody flow.

He had tried a different approach this time. He usually took pride in the way he could use electronic, dense sounds to form a lighter melody, though never losing that basic artificial feeling; this track used music from his hometown, back in Japan, with a traditional beginning of oriental instruments. Manipulating the board, he let the electronic base go up and mix with the original rythm, a melody of both natural and unnatural sounds filling the place.

Then there was the bass drop.

He had gotten help from an old acquaintance to make that very specific part. A childhood friend who could play the Koto better than anyone had lent him his wisdom, as he liked to call it, and they'd recorded an amazing solo that would later be used to fill the post-bass drop in Moon Berry's best track.

It was this song that got his heart and soul full with genuine pride. He thought of it as a masterpiece. His own little masterpiece.

For the third time in a row, he looked down in hopes of seeing White Hair enjoy the music and move his head alongside the rythm. He found him gripping the metal fence that separated him from the stage, a bewildered expression plastered on his face.

Moon Berry couldn't take it anymore. He didn't know if he was doing the right thing or not. Even if the rest of the public had gone crazy with Heaven Piercer, all of them screaming and enjoying the atmosphere, he wanted to know what White Hair thought.

He wanted to know if his passion had been properly shared or not. And so he did the unthinkable.

He suddenly began to descend from the stage, his playful grin hiding his bent up frustration. He heard his brother scream in panic, alongside the screech of an incredibly confused Blu Panther and several cries from the staff members. The public almost didn't notice the action, their drunken state covering Berry from most suspicions.

He got on the stone floor and walked decidedly towards White Hair. Two security guards were already rushing to him, pleading the DJ to go back up on the scenario. Before they could get their hands on him, he managed to grab the shoulders of the man that was his only focus.

\- Did you like the second chance?- he tried to say, but all he got was a whisper that would be impossible to hear.

Four strong hands got a hang of his arms and casually forced him back, the two armed men already spilling words of how his actions could cause a conmotion or that he was risking himself recklessly.

To everyone's surprise, the DJ tried to resist and talk to White one more time, wanting to get his message across properly, but his attempts were stopped abruptly when... when White passed out.

Berry was half-forced back onto the scenario, almost no one noticing what had happened until a little mess of people and paramedics was formed around the place where White had been. Moon Berry worriedly looked down once in a while. Had that been his fault? Was White sick? Did he do something unappropiate, besides going down to see him? A bubbling worry attacked him and made his chest feel tight.

\- What _was_ that, you idiot?!- Blu began his demands almost inmediately, and Moon Berry lowered his head.

\- There was something I needed to...- Berry couldn't finish his sentence before his partner interrupted him with a yell.

\- We'll talk about this later. Let's just have a great end for now. You know Ogi and Aizen won't be happy with the shit you just pulled.

The orange-haired DJ gulped, already imagining what would be coming, but a pat on his shoulder snapped him out of it.

\- Come on, Ichigo. It's time for a good finale.

Moon Berry, or Ichigo Kurosaki, nodded slightly and forced a smile. Following Blu, they continued their show for about twenty more minutes, until the clock hit 3 a.m. and Blu began to say his goodbyes. Ichigo slowly retired, only to be met with his furious brother awaiting him at the backstage. Before he could say a word, which probably would've been the beginning of a severe scolding, Ichigo dismissed him with a weak hand gesture.

His regret had put him in a rather bad mood. He didn't want to talk. Not right then.

♤

The streets felt colder than before. It was kind of obvious, but Ichigo still expected them to be the same as the last time he went out. Even though it was Fall, the temperature felt as if it was Winter already.

He breathed out softly and watched how his former audience left the stadium, each one picking their own way back home, some of them laughing loudly and walking towards the bohemian streets, others taking the stairs leading to the subway, and a few decided to wait for a taxi to drive them back home.

...come to think of it, Ichigo couldn't exactly consider them _his_ audience. They were Blu Panther's. They were Grimmjow's fans, not his. He was just a guest. Ichigo reminded himself, rather bitterly, that he still didn't have enough fame to get a decent sponsor and make his own concert, let alone a tour. So far he had only been a twenty-minute filler that appeared sometimes in other DJs' shows.

He appreciated his brother's efforts, though. Ogichi had done his best in every meeting and had gotten him a nice quantity of opportunities. That was partially the reason why he was so angry before. It wasn't easy to get someone to accept you in their concerts, clear exceptions being friends and close acquaintances like Grimmjow. But this time, it was different with him; Grimm now worked under Las Noches’ authority, and Ichigo had met his boss personally.

Aizen Sousuke was a strict CEO. He had his plans for each DJ clear and in motion, not wasting an ounce of unnecessary energy in any other affair concerning them. Grimm had lost his freedom once he joined the company, and although he sky rocketed in every social media and got dozens of requests from other famous figures to do collaborations, or from several specialized radio stations to firm a contract and play his tracks in open channels to reach a wider audience, he still felt trapped under Aizen's gaze. He had rules to follow. His concerts and schedules were tight. He didn't have time to slack off.

And so, by accepting Ichigo in one of his shows, Ichigo had also accepted to submit to _Aizen's_ rules. And he had violated the script.

He knew he would never hear the end of it in their next meeting. He'd probably lost the chance to participate in another event like this with his friend. Ogichi had probably lost the chance to make any more negotiations with Las Noches. In short, Ichigo got himself a nice mess: he no longer had the chance of a sponsor.

But no matter how hard he tried to picture the depth of the situation, all of his thoughts still went back to White Hair.

What he did was terrible, yes, he wasn't going to deny that. But this was his one and only chance to see if he could change someone's mind with his music. The thing he had always wanted, his dream, was to be able to make the lefts out feel like they belonged somewhere. That's why he made his songs different from everyone else's. He was experimental. He liked to mix things that didn't belong together to make something bigger, better, greater. He enjoyed the thought of someone cracking a smile and closing their eyes when they heard his results.

Thus the reason why his focus revolved around White Hair during his performance.

He felt it at the parking lot. A special connection, a tingle at the back of his mind that felt pleasant. White Hair was the kind of person he wanted to please with his job. And in his despair to know if he did good or not, he had probably made things worse for both of them.

The sound of a demanding voice got his attention back to the real world. He turned around from his spot in the shadows and saw a red-headed woman, evidently drunk, yelling something at an oriental-looking, gray-haired man that was dragging her away from the medical tent. Two other males were close by, one supporting the other with his body. The decent one had black hair quite similar to his own, and wore distinct punk clothes. The hanging one had wild red hair, probably dyed, barely kept in place with a high ponytail that reminded Ichigo of a pineapple. They waved at two other guys who were taking a taxi not that far away. One had shoulder lenght black hair, or at least Ichigo assumed it was black, and he was carrying a bald male on his back.

Positioning himself a little closer, he managed to see a flash of white inside the tent. A small flame of hope lit up inside the DJ, and he calmly, almost casually, made his way towards the strange group of people.

\- Darlin', come on, you gotta lemme stay! Boss ain't good yet!

\- You're in no better shape either, honey. Now please get in the car or I will have to force you.

\- But Boss ain't good yet!! I gotta help!!

The woman, and the man who Ichigo assumed was her husband, were bickering all the way towards their vehicle, until he could hear the door slamming shut and the engine starting. He saw them drive away from the place, and he decided to approach the two men who were still standing outside the tent. Patting the shoulder of the decent one, he tried to get his attention.

\- Excuse me, do you... have a problem?

The black-haired man turned around, his eyes half open and showing both signs of being drunk and heavily tired.

\- Well... maybe we do... who are you?

Ichigo hesitated for an instant before answering.

\- I'm Akira Shirosaki.- he didn't know why he suddenly spat out such a lie, but he did, and he couldn't take it back.

\- Akira...? I'm Hisagi. We got a tiny problem... me and partner and Boss...

\- Yes? How can I help?

\- See over there? Das our Boss. Mister Hitsugaya.

Following the direction of Hisagi's pointing finger, his eyes settled on the passed out form of White Hair- no, Mister Hitsugaya. So he wasn't wrong. That was good; he would've hated to have to refuse his help to strangers if he was the one who offered in the first place. White Hair wasn't exactly a stranger to his eyes anymore.

\- Mister Hitsugaya? What happened to him?- he asked, innocently.

\- He passed out during the show... and he doesn't have anyone to get him home... Renji and I live close to 'ere, so we got no money for a taxi... Yumichika left already... Gin couldn't wait until the paramedics released him... and we're drunk, we can't drive...

Ichigo could see the dilemma, though he wondered why the other members of the group couldn't help Hitsugaya to get home if they knew about his situation. He assumed that "Renji" was the red-head Hisagi was carrying, and that "Yumichika" had to be one of the males who took a taxi before he arrived.

He checked his watch. 3:18 a.m.. He knew he had screwed up enough for one night, but the feeling of hope and compassion in his chest wasn't going away. He looked between the two males, just to confirm his suspicion regarding their current state of mind. No, they were in no shape to help their "Boss".

Ichigo saw an opportunity. He wasn't going to ignore it.

\- Do you know where Mister Hitsugaya lives? I can drive him home. Someone could come with me, if you want to make sure I keep my word.

Hisagi's eyes went from drowsy to shock in a millisecond. He grabbed "Akira" by his arm, gripping him firmly while being careful of not letting Renji fall down.

\- Would you do that? Can I trust you to do that?

\- I'll do whatever I can to help.

Renji lifted his head slightly, and narrowed his eyes at the supposed stranger.

\- Why the fuck should we leave this in your hands? Why the fuck should we trust _you_?- he suddenly spat, a dangerous tone in his words. He instantly regretted opening his mouth, however, when he twisted his body free from his partner's grip and stumbled towards the closest wall. Gross sounds followed, soon being joined by a rather undesirable smell. Hisagi went to help him, patting his back gently and giving him comforting comments.

Ichigo looked at them with sadness in his gaze. Seeing them with their own problems, he decided to walk towards the tent and get some information about Mister Hitsugaya's condition.

\- Can I help you?- a paramedic took the DJ by surprise with the sudden words, and he nodded quietly while turning around to face the new person.

\- This man, is he Mister Hitsugaya?- he asked, politely. There was another passed out male resting inside the tent; he couldn't afford to make a mistake now. He honestly hoped that White Hair was Hitsugaya.

\- Yes, indeed. Are you familiar with him?

\- ...I am. Kind of.

He knew he was lying. He just hoped the paramedic wouldn't notice.

\- What's your relationship with Mister Hitsugaya?- the medic asked, taking out a small notebook to write down Ichigo's answer.

\- I am... a friend of one of his co-workers. Mister Hisagi. He's outside.

\- I see.- _He bought it. -_ Well, if I may ask, are you in good condition to accompany Mister Hitsugaya towards his home? We believe this was the result of a suffocation, nothing that we could not handle. He is free to go now.

\- Yes. I can get him home. Does he still have his car keys?

The paramedic went to grab a small light blue bag and showed it to Ichigo.

\- We were given permission to manipulate his belongings by Mister Hisagi, your friend. You may take the responsibility now. I will have to ask him to fill a form to confirm the authorization. You may fill one on your own too.

He handed Ichigo a paper with pretty simple requests. His age, his address, his name, his gender... all of these things, he could answer them easily. 21 years old, his real address, "Akira Shirosaki", male. He just hoped that Hisagi would fill it right, or else there could be problems.

After the paramedic went to ask Hisagi to complete his own paper, the mess seemed to be coming to an end. He received the bag and checked for the keys to be there. He also checked for the presence of Mister Hitsugaya's ID and wallet. All in order.

He gently lifted the small male from the bed, and a medical assistant accompained him to the car. He put him to rest on the co-pilot's seat, and just as he was about to open his door, the assistant spoke to him.

\- It is mandatory that we take certain measures to assure the well being of our patients. Please, could you hand me your cell phone, Mister Shirosaki?

Ichigo was in no position to refuse, and he complied inmediately. Whatever they would ask from him, he would do it. He was a man who kept his word.

\- I've registered your phone's ID and turned on the location. We did the same with Mister Hitsugaya's phone.- the other person said, giving Ichigo his phone back... alongside another one.

He had forgotten about Hitsugaya's phone. If not for the assistant, he would've screwed up. And hard.

\- We ask you to not turn your location nor your cell phone off for two days. Your ID will also be erased from our records when that time passes. It is just in case you try to do anything... unappropiate. We will get an alert if anything happens.

\- I understand. No problem.- Berry meant it when he said those words. He knew he would do nothing worthy of triggering an alert.

Once he was ready to go, he received Hitsugaya's address from Hisagi, who was now carrying a sleeping Renji on his back. After waving them farewell, he began his way to the indicated place, following the directions from his GPS without hesitation.

♧

In a ride of no longer than 30 minutes, they arrived to a large building that was in a rather respectable area of the big city. A surprise, if he had to be honest; he wasn't expecting White Hair- Hitsugaya, to live among luxuries in Brooklyn.

His cell phone made a short "Ping", indicating that they had arrived to their destination, and Ichigo parked the car skillfuly in a free space, not far from the building's entrance. It was a nice tower that seemed to hide in the shadows of the surrounding constructions, as if purposely avoiding the spotlight.

He got off the car and scooped up the still sleeping male on his arms, bridal style. Making sure of leaving no signs of his presence, nor any of his belongings inside, he began his way to Hitsugaya's apartment. Floor 10, number 101. Easy to remember.

The moment he entered the building, he stopped dead on his tracks, expecting someone to ask him for his personal information again. But to his surprise, the only guard left that night just spared him a short glance, his eyes setting on Hitsugaya, and he just gestured for Ichigo to keep walking. So he recognized the white-haired male, huh... was it not the first time something like this had happened to the smaller man?

He decided not to dwell too much at the hall with those thoughts and quickly entered the closest elevator. Once he reached floor 10, he began to look for the right door, finding it almost hidden at the end of the last corridor. It was also the only door without any kind decoration outside; no "Home sweet home" imprinted on a carpet, no plants, nothing.

Hitsugaya wasn't exactly careful with his privacy, Ichigo noted, once he saw the keys. Each one of them had the name of the place they belonged to written right on them. His thoughts were misguided, however, when he noticed that the writings were in Japanese. His eyes softened noticeably, and his mouth curved into a smile. So Hitsugaya was either the same as him, or just a big fan of his home country's culture. It made him feel good, somehow.

After struggling with the door for a solid minute, he finally managed to open it and step inside. What a surprise awaited for him.

"Oh" was his only thought.

The apartment had a single, small table, a lonely sofa, a common TV, and one photo hanging on the wall. There was nothing else. His expectation for luxuries and amazing stuff that came to his mind after finding out he lived in Brooklyn were far from the truth. Mister Hitsugaya was a simple man that just happened to have a nice location to live at,

Ichigo gently laid Hitsugaya down on the sofa, and wondered if he should put a blanket on him or not. He decided against it, in the end, because he thought that meddling inside the white-haired male's apartment could raise unnecessary suspicions.

There was one thing he wanted, though. The clock was now close to hitting 4 a.m., and Ichigo's stomach grumbled loudly. He blushed and turned around, afraid of having disturbed Hitsugaya's slumber. The smaller male just moved his arm in response. Good, he was a heavy sleeper... taking the chance, the DJ went to the closest door and found himself in a poorly decorated kitchen. He silently snatched a glass from a cabinet and opened the fridge in hopes of finding a non-alcoholic drink. He was surprised to see that there was nothing close to that. An opened bottle of Orange juice rested on the door, alongside a box of milk and a few vegetables on the other side.

As quietly as he could, he went for the juice and got himself half a glass of it, gulping it down inmediately. He returned the bottle inside the fridge, and he was about to clean the glass when a "ping" put every single one of his senses in alert.

" _Fuck, my phone._ " He sprinted back into the living room and grabbed his device, silencing it just in time to receive a call. On the screen, the name 'Older bastard' lit up his eyes, and he cut the call by reflex.

Ogichi noticed his absence. About time.

The clock read 4:06 a.m., and Ichigo thought enough was enough. He had to get out of there. The dirty glass forgotten on the table, he picked up his cell phone and turned towards the door, opening it with the utmost care to not make a sound.

A shift got his attention and he turned around, panicked. The whole world seemed to silence itself for this one moment.

Hitsugaya was snoring. Softly, almost as gently as a baby, but snoring, nonetheless. Ichigo approached him one more time, the door still open, and with the dim light that got into the room, he took his time to appreciate his face.

His white hair wasn't dyed, cue his eyebrows and his eyelashes. His lips seemed soft and well taken care of. His skin didn't have one imperfection. Did he not get acne when he was younger? Ichigo still had some of those marks from the Dark Era.

He streched his arm towards him, a weird feeling invading his body. His heart began to beat faster and he felt his face go warm.

"Can I touch your cheek?" He wanted to say. But the sleeping form wouldn't answer him, so it made no sense to ask-

He snapped back to reality just in time. He took his hand back as if he had been burned, and didn't waste one more second. Rushing out, he closed the door and pressed the elevator button several times. Once inside, he made the mistake of pressing level -1, but casually corrected it to 1 with a groan. No one would notice the elevator going down after he got off.

He waved the guard goodbye as he passed him by, the gesture not being returned. Outside, he dialed his brother while signaling for a taxi to stop.

Ogichi picked up after the first ring.

"Where the fuck are you." The demand came inmediately, no greeting being uttered.

\- I'm on my way back to the hotel.- after saying this, he hoped on the car that had stopped for him and blocked the microphone with his hand. He gave the driver the name of the place and he understood inmediately

"Where. The fuck. Are you." His brother insisted, his tone sharp and furious.

\- Fine, I'm in Brooklyn.- Ichigo snapped back, the anger being shared among the twins. He waited until hell broke loose.

"BROOKLYN?!" Even the driver winced at Ogichi's screech, and his passenger apologized silently. "WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU DOING IN FUCKING BROOKLYN?!"

\- Enjoying the city, what else, dumbass?

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF- I'll kill you. This time I'll kill you. Even before Aizen does. You just crossed the MOTHERFUCKING LINE!"

Ichigo would've laughed at the threat, if not because he knew that Ogichi was serious.

\- Look, someone needed help, brother. I couldn't just-

"Yes you could. Don't give me that crap. You could've ignored what was going on. You could've looked away. When you get here, you tell me what the fuck happened, then I'll kill you if I feel like it."

\- Grimm won't let you.- he tried to dissuade his brother from the idea, knowing full well that, with enough anger, he could send him straight to the hospital.

"Oh, hell he will. He gave me the idea."

...well, that was enough for him. He cut the call right then, and didn't pick up for any more of those until he arrived to the hotel. He sighed and walked in. This was going to be a night longer than expected.

◇

\- I'LL KILL THAT BASTARD!- Ogichi's scream resonated inside the hotel for several minutes, though no one dared to go and shut him up once and for all. Fear was something that Ogichi had talent to awaken in people's hearts.

It had been like that for half an hour already. Ichigo's albino twin scratched his head furiously, and he paced around the room from side to side tiredlessly.

A blue haired man sat on the bed watching him silently. Inside, he was a mess of anger, too, but he tried to contain it to avoid making the situation worse. He clenched his fists, stress bubbling up as he growled under his breath.

\- Where is he?

\- I don't know.- the albino snapped, irritated -I don't fucking know. He told me "Brooklyn", BUT THAT WAS TEN MINUTES AGO! He could be in Chinatown now if he wanted to! Why is he like this?! What did I do to deserve this bastard?! He's not picking up either! Did he block my number?!

Grimmjow Jeagerjackes let Ogichi Kurosaki rant as much as he wanted to, even if he disagreed with some of his statements. He was in no position to protest, anyway. He didn't want to face the smug side of Ogichi right then; he preferred to see him angry rather than being made fun of.

\- I should have brought the Family treasure. I should just SLICE HIS HEAD OFF WHEN HE GETS HERE!

\- Isn't that a little extreme?

\- You said I could kill him before. Don't you fucking dare to take back your words now.

\- I mean, yeah, you can kill him, but with your Familie's treasure? You mean the katana, right?

\- Hell yeah I do. What else?

\- Wasn't your uncle Zangetsu, like, "your worst enemy"? How are you gonna get the sword then, genius?

Ogichi sighed, grabbing a fistful of his hair again and trying to pry it off. He groaned, gazed out the room's balcony, walked towards the door again, then roared in frustration.

\- Why are we talking about this!? I need to see Ichigo. And kill him. But I need to see him, goddamnit!

Grimmjow put his feral grin on when he heard those words. He knew it was a bad moment, but he couldn't help the snarky remark that came after.

\- Are you getting the overprotective vibes from him or is it just how you truly feel?

The bluenette regretted his words the second they left his mouth.

\- _Let's make one thing clear. I can act however the fuck I please if my brother is involved. You, on the other hand, should stay shut like a good heartbroken ex._

That hurt.

\- Well, Ichigo's still my friend, so I got the freaking right to say a thing or two about his disaster of a brother. And, you know? You're a disaster! I close my case.

And of course they didn't stop themselves from starting a fight.

\- Oh, really?! I might be a disaster, but at least I'm not the one who still has false hopes of being loved back!- the white-haired man began to yell at Grimmjow, any regards for his feelings forgotten under his anger.

\- Excuse me?! You wanna fight, dumbass?!

\- Go ahead! You lay a finger on me, and Aizen is gonna...!

\- Aizen is gonna fucking _what_?

The sound of the door being unlocked from the other side was the only thing that made the two feral men stop. Ichigo almost sprinted inside the room, his hands extended in a calming motion.

\- I thought I told you to never be left alone in the same room together!- he shouted, a pulsing vein showing on his right temple. -Grimmjow, you're out, now!

\- Why am I the one out?!- the blue haired man changed his tone from furious to hurt in less than a second. For a split moment, his mind brought back an unpleasant memory that he refused to relive again.

He honestly hoped that Ichigo realized his bad choice of words.

\- Because this is not your room, Jeagerjackes.

The cold voice that interjected in Ichigo's favor was impossible to ignore. While Grimmjow made a distressed growl escape his lips at the new presence, Ogichi just grunted and looked away, his hair swaying with heavy drops of cold sweat.

\- Thanks, Ulquiorra.

\- You are welcome, Ichigo. Do you wish to be left alone?

\- Yep, indeed I do. Could you...?

\- Jeagerjackes, with me. Inmediately.

The pale, black haired male known as Ulquiorra motioned for the fourth occupant of the room to stand up and follow him. Grimm wanted to refuse, he really did, but the twins' pressing stare finished him up.

If he wasn't wanted in the room, they could've just said so before the mess began.

With a soft pat on Ulquiorra's shoulder, the orange-haired DJ thanked his help one more time. He received an understanding nod in response, and the two males left the room, closing the door behind them.

Awkward silence followed for several minutes. Ogichi crossed his arms over his chest and tapped the ground anxiously with his foot, his frown deep and his clenched teeth showing.

\- Are you gonna spit it out or not?

Ichigo sighed, tiredly.

\- Can't this wait until morning? I'm exhausted.

\- You got a meeting booked with Aizen in the morning. You either explain it here and now, with me, or you do it with him, then.

Ichigo took a minute or two to consider his options. He was going to die by the hands of his brother, or under the gaze of the person he despised the most in the world. The better option was obvious.

\- ...Someone needed help to get home. I offered to bring them there. I had to drive a car to Brooklyn, then leave them at their apartment. That's it.

Ogichi narrowed his eyes before roaring.

\- That's it, you say?! That's fucking IT?! Is this a joke to you?! Is your freaking career a joke to you?! Huh?! Give me a damn break!

He didn't stop there, even when Ichigo winced at his tone and tried to explain himself more. Ogichi didn’t let him utter a word.

\- Aw, someone needed help? TO HELL WITH THAT! YOU LOOK FOR YOURSELF BEFORE OTHERS, YOU IDIOT! Their problem is not your freaking problem! If you get fired from your current company, WHAT THE FUCK WILL YOU DO?! HUH?!

\- I couldn't just-!

\- YOU FUCKING COULD!- the albino's final and decisive shout snapped Ichigo's mouth shut, his retort dying in his throat.

Chocolate brown eyes locked themselves with ferocious amber ones, a battle of wills taking place inside of them. Ogichi would never admit it, but Ichigo just knew what was going on in his twin brother's head. All of this anger, from the concert to that very moment, was being fueled solely by worry. Why he felt such intense worry was the mystery, but Ichigo would take his time to find out later. Now, he just had to take care of his mentally unstable brother who would blow up any second and end up either wailing on his face or crushing his face.

...did he want to, though?

He had felt enough revolving guilt for that day. He didn't want more. He didn't want to be responsible for anything else. He didn't want to take care of his brother. He was done.

\- Shiro.

The albino's expression suddenly shifted from wrath to something unreadable. It was to be expected; that nickname had been forgotten for years now. Of course he wouldn't know how to react.

\- For the meeting with Aizen... you're out. I'll handle it myself.

Disbelief and a slight feeling of betrayal invaded Ogichi's heart, which began to beat wilder than before.

\- What do you mean, you idiot?- he panted weakly, his strong voice lost in his confusion.

\- I'll give you the damn break you want. You're out for today and tomorrow.

Without expecting (nor waiting) for an answer, Ichigo turned on his heels and made his way out of the room, his hands burying themselves deep inside his pockets.

\- I'm sleeping with Ulquiorra. Wake me up if I'm needed.

And so he left.

  
♡

 

 


	3. Killer trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get out of control for Toshiro and in control for Rangiku. Unexpected help, a disaster of a man, and a cursed bird, all in less than 30 hours.
> 
> Maybe the Director should start to trust himself more than others.

It was hard to deny the astonished faces from everyone in the office when Toshiro arrived. The prodigy Director, who had forced his team to make a promise of no slacking off the day after the concert, who had always been the first one to get to the office and organize the incoming paperwork every morning, and who got angry for the smallest mistakes, had arrived two hours late for the first time in his life.

He was received with concern and awkwardness at the elevator, his luck so amazingly good that he had stumbled upon Mister Shunsui, head of the Women's Magazine department. Toshiro couldn't exactly say that he liked the man; he only admired his keen eye and remarkable intelligence, but as a person, he had terrible social skills.

  - Good grief, Mister Hitsugaya! Are you feeling alright today?- ...Great, now he wanted to have a talk with him.

  - I am ok.

His answer had the intention to cut off any other attempt from the tall man beside him to start a conversation, but he was stubborn and bad at reading signs.

(Or maybe he was so good he knew something was going on inside Hitsugaya's mind, but tried to make himself look oblivious).

  - What happened? Hang over? You got lost? Were you robbed, perhaps?

Toshiro didn't want to open himself up about the real issue, but he knew it would be extremely rude to leave Shunsui's questions hanging. The elevator arrived to his floor, and while he got off, he turned around and addressed the senior Director.

  - I overslept. It will not happen again.

The doors finally separated them once and for all, leaving Hitsugaya to deal with his own thoughts as he walked inside his personal office.

His day was only beginning, though.

  - Mister Hitsugaya!

  - Boss!

He hadn't taken one step inside his private room when he was assaulted by his secretary and his most trustworthy worker, Rangiku and Hisagi. The woman had worry plastered all over her face, while his other co-worker sported racoon-looking bags around his eyes.

  - I have no idea why I gave my permission for something like that to happen! I'm so sorry, Boss! If anything happened at your house, please, PLEASE put the responsibility on my shoulders! I'll do any-

A single raised hand was enough to shut Hisagi up. Toshiro already had a pulsing vein on his head, irritation evident from his features.

  - You're responsible for a dirty glass. Dismissed.

The gasp that followed wasn't a surprise. The aggressive shake that he got from two firm hands on his shoulders was the thing that got the Director with his guard low.

  - I STAYED AWAKE ALL NIGHT THINKING ABOUT MY MISTAKE! What do you mean, "responsible for a dirty glass"?! I trusted _you_  to someone I just met!! I shouldn't even be allowed to work under your jurisdiction anymore!! Mister Hitsugaya, please-!

  - I SAID **DISMISSED**!

Toshiro screamed at his co-worker, and without warning, he wildly pushed Hisagi back with both his hands, forcing him to let go and stop shaking the smaller Director. The exchange would've been common interaction between them, if not for the horrible aura that the white-haired man emanated and the rude tone he had used.  
  
Rangiku protectively put Hisagi behind her, both of them equally scared with their Boss' outburst. This was a first. He had never shouted to anyone in the office before.

Time stopped for Toshiro during that split second. He wasn't acting like himself, it showed, and worst of all, he noticed it. His repressed feelings and stress were catching up to him in the most unhealthy way possible and, turns out, he was now hurting those he cared about with words they didn't deserve.

He looked at his reflection on the windows that surrounded his private space. He looked terrible. His hair was a mess, bangs of unorganized gray falling over his eyes and getting on the way of his already failing vision. He hadn't cleaned his glasses either, and dirty stains of who knows what kind of liquid were splattered here and there. His lips seemed dry, probably because he didn't drink his daily glass of water before leaving his apartment. Finally, severe trails of uncleaned sweat could be spotted down his temples, his sprint to catch a taxi being the one guilty of those. Maybe the fact that he hadn't taken a shower was aggravating his condition, too.

And that was only his face. He had picked a bad set of clothes in his rush to get as quickly as possible to his work, and his stripped blue and green shirt didn't exactly suit his brown pants nor his grey suit. If a stranger was to summarize his life with his current look, they wouldn't think he was a succesful press Director, but someone who barely loved himself enough to be a decent person.

  - Shuuhei, you should... could you go help Renji with Rukia's abandoned errands?- the secretary inmediately took action against the odd situation, having noticed Hitsugaya's behavior too. The black-haired man nodded, burning red embarrassment covering his cheeks, and he left the room without uttering one more word.

Rangiku closed the door and made sure no one was looking before firing away.

  - Boss, what was that about?

Toshiro had turned around and was now staring down at the streets below him, his interest revolving around the dull cars that passed by. A heavy sigh left his lips, and he went to unpack his things with a pessimistic frown on his eyes.

  - I'm sorry. It... it will not happen again.

  - I don't care about that, Boss. Are you ok?

Hitsugaya felt tempted to avoid the question and dismiss Rangiku, too, but just by thinking of how that would hurt her feelings and her trust made him regret the idea. A part of his brain was demanding him to let go of his self-imposed barriers and open up about his issue. It wouldn't kill him to listen to that side once.

"Just once." He thought, before sitting down on his chair and motioning for his friend to do the same on the remaining seat across the room.

  - Something is wrong with me and I can't put my finger on it.

  - I noticed. Does it have anything to do with the concert?

  - Probably.

He didn't know how to continue the conversation without messing it up, so he decided to stay silent until Matsumoto said something. It didn't exactly take too long for that to happen.

  - Boss, what if something is messed up inside your mind? Maybe you should see a psycologist.

"Just once." He repeated in his head.

  - You may call me Toshiro for now. Drop the formalities.

He intended to make the conversation more amiable with that "measure", and he attempted a smile. When he saw Rangiku's astonished eyes, though, he failed to keep his happy face up.

  - What?- his frown came almost by reflex. It did feel more natural for him.

  - This just got a hundred times more serious, Boss.

  - I told you to call me Toshiro.

  - Correction: a million times.

Maybe for the fifth time that day, he sighed, anxiousness trying to release itself through his breath.

  - Can't you just... help me? You know about this stuff. You should be able to tell me what's wrong.

  - Sorry, Toshiro... but I didn't exactly study psycology, you see.

  - You work with gossips and tattles! You, you...! Why do I even bother?!

The Director was about to blow up again and forget about his manners when his secretary put a silencing finger on his mouth, taking him by surprise.

  - In my defense, you haven't actually given me any material to work with!- she said, sporting her usual mischievous expression as she taunted him with a journalism-themed joke. She gently moved her remaining hand up to her Boss' hair and stroked it gently, a motion all too similar to the way one would treat a pouting child.

"So this is how she deals with celebrities?! By invading personal space?! How come I never got any demands from this?!" Hitsugaya clenched his teeth in discomfort and leaned his head back, escaping from the hands of the red-headed woman playing with him.

  - I will ask you to never do that again with me.

  - There's my Boss!- Rangiku exclaimed, cheerfully.

The woman smiled widely at Toshiro's angered expression, then crossed her arms under her chest. She gestured for him to start talking again, the confidence on her features softening Hitsugaya's frown.

Well, she _did_  know how to lighten his mood.

  - Ok, then... how about... will it be useful if I tell you what I've been feeling?

  - As in, physically?- Toshiro nodded. -Yeah, that'll work!

He took a deep inhale before spilling the beans.

  - It happened last night, during the concert. My heart was beating so fast and hard it hurt. I could feel my cheeks being hotter than ever, and I was sweating like a pig. Everything was so confusing, and I felt... lost.

His partner narrowed her eyes and put her hand under her chin, deep in thought.

  - Are you sure you didn't drink anything?

  - No, I threw away the Vodka Ikkaku gave me. I didn't like it.

  - When did you start to feel those things?

The small Director gulped, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Rangiku. He could feel his cheeks becoming increasingly hot.

There was no turning back at that point of the conversation, so he knew he had to tell his secretary the truth, or they would get nowhere and his problem would stay unsolved.

  - It began when... when Moon Berry appeared on the stage. My focus didn't leave him until I passed out.

The woman inhaled sharply, then squealed with a high-pitched voice that Toshiro had never heard before.

  - OH MY GOD!! Boss! You're-!

  - Tone it down! Tone it down, Matsumoto!

Rangiku gasped, then put her hand over her mouth.

  - You're in love!!!- she whispered, her voice unbelieving and excited beyond understanding.

The white haired male looked down in embarrassment and grabbed his shirt around the place where his heart was.

He knew she was right, and hell he wanted to deny she was right, but he had known since the moment he woke up that day. He knew something was wrong, related to his feelings, but he couldn't place his finger on it... or maybe he could, but he refused to.

The last time he had been in love was when he was still in highschool. He was head over heels for a beautiful girl that had come as an exchange student; she was called Momo, and he thought she was the cutest, most beautiful and tender girl in the world.

The fact that she was from Japan also played a huge role in his crush. He loved the culture (he still did, actually). He knew some of his relatives had been from that country, too, so in a way, he felt connected to it even if he wasn't native from it.

Her features, her way of speaking and her mannerisms, all of them reflected elegance and delicacy that he absolutely adored. She was the perfect crush.

The heartbreak was so hard that he closed himself off from there on.

Toshiro was cold before Hinamori Momo, yes, because he was considered a prodigy, a genius, and "that one student" that would be succesful at the Academy. After her arrival, it took him months to collect enough courage inside to tell her his repressed feelings. And then, after everything he went through to just spit out the damn words, her rejection had hit him worse than expected. It was partially her fault that he was so bad at feelings now.

" _I... I think I feel something for you, Momo!"_

_"Oh, Shiro... I'm sorry, but I don't share the same feelings for you." She had said, sadly. "I think you're a great friend, Shiro, I like you that way, but... not the way you like me. Can we still be friends? Please?"_

_"Don't call me Shiro." His barriers shot up instantly, ten times stronger than before. There was no turning back for him at that point. "Don't call me Shiro ever again. I'm Hitsugaya for you._ "

He remembered Momo shouting something at him after he ran away, tears beginning to form at the corner of his eyes, but he wasn't paying attention anymore. The next day, she wasn't there. And the week that followed, he had already found alternate ways to get to his classes, so that they would never cross paths again.

Even when Momo returned and tried to talk things out with him, he refused to make mere eye contact.

That one failed, cursed experience of love was enough for him. He didn't want to fall in love ever again. And lucky him, no one else had crossed his path to awaken such feelings for some good ten years, leaving him at peace with the world.

...Until the concert.

  - Rangiku...- he began, his voice timid and caught in his throat. -...what do I do?

His friend uncovered her mouth and showed a smile that seemed almost motherly.

  - First of all, we fix your look.

Hitsugaya snapped his head up, confused.

  - What? No, I mean, with this _problem_ -

  - We fix your look, Boss. You're going to need it. Let's wind out some stress!

He wanted to ask what she meant by all of that, his anxiousness to know how to _feel_  getting the best of him. The woman tried to pry him off the chair, saying how much he needed to comb his hair once in a while or take a shower, but he remained unmoving.

  - Come on, Boss! I'll help you with what's coming, I promise, but your first step towards it has to be to fix yourself from this disaster!

  - What? But- why?

  - Will you trust me on this one? Please?

_"Just once"_. The phrase came back to his mind, clear as water, and he took a resignated sigh in defeat. He had accepted to talk about himself, now he had to accept whatever would be coming as a result. It was only logical to face the comsequences of his actions.

  - ...you better honor your word this time, Rangiku.

♤

Unhealthy amounts of paperwork filled the unorganized desk of the Women's Magazine Director, Shunsui Kyoraku. He didn't exactly seem to mind them as he calmly drank his tea, his tongue complaining slightly at the taste. He preferred quality alcohol over this, but during working hours he had to remain professional.

His focus was located on something else, though. He grabbed a particular paper from his desk, which was marked with a red sign on one of its borders, and read it whole all over again, an action he had been repeating since he got it from his secretary in the morning.

" _What's this about, Nanao?"_

_"They're the results of the survey we did through our website, sir. It appears we must add more interviews and celebrities; the readings are getting lower every issue."_

_"How come? Lisa made an amazing article with that fashion designer, Uryuu, for the last one. He was trending at the moment."_

_"Our survey shows that women and teenagers want something more flashy. The report here explains it in detail; I suggest you read it thoroughly and look for a solution, sir_."

That conversation remained vividly in Shunsui's ears. The paper couldn't be wrong if his secretary delivered it. Their magazine was losing readers, and without enough support, he knew that CEO Yamamoto would shut his section down and give the opportunity to someone else to develop a side-business for the newspaper.

  - Something flashy and interesting...- he muttered under his breath. -What do girls want, nowadays? If Fashion and Cooking are outdated, then we have to either get an Actor or a Musician... but those are so hard to catch, it'll be impossible...

His hand moved almost by reflex, and he lifted his phone while dialing his best friend. Maybe a conversation that wasn't work-related would give him a few ideas.

"Hello?" A raspy voice picked up at the other side, and the Director smiled after hearing it.

  - Juushirou, my pal! How are you doing?

"Oh! Shunsui! Now this is a pleasant surprise, I'm way better just by hearing your voice."

Little did they know that both of them were now sporting dorky grins as they happily exchanged a considerable amount of words. Juushirou commented a few things about his current health, which had gotten him straight into the hospital twice in less than three months. Shunsui shared his latest experiences inside and outside of the office, funny stories leaving his mouth while his white-haired friend laughed at the other side of the line.

Their enthusiasm dissipated all worries, and Kyoraku couldn't believe his eyes when he had to cut the call and see how many minutes he had consumed with his "short talk". When did five minutes turn into half an hour? He had no idea.

There was a gentle knock at his door, and he froze. Was Nanao back for an answer regarding the report? He didn't have one yet, he needed more time. What would she say? Would she give him a few more hours and have mercy, or just reprimand him without hesitation?

  - Come in!

Whether her answer was positive or negative, he had to accept it one way or another. He sighed and lowered his head, expecting his punishment.

It never came.

  - Hello, Mister Shunsui!

_Oh, he knew that voice_

  - Miss Matsumoto?- he stared at her and stood up inmediately, walking towards the door to receive her properly. -Goodness! What are you doing here?

The woman smiled and moved to the side slightly, revealing the (now presentable) form of her Boss standing behind her.

She had taken his gray suit off, trying to fix his choice of colors with small changes. Borrowing a few tools from her colleagues, she managed to clean Toshiro's glasses, erase the traces of sweat from his skin and pull his hair back properly with an almost invisible hairpin. Hisagi collaborated by going out and buying a men's perfume at the closest store, which covered the fact that Hitsugaya hadn't taken a shower.

There was a little detail that would stay as a secret betweem them, though. For some reason, the Director's lip had cracked at one side, and there was no way he could hide that bloody mark. It looked as if someone had hit him on that side of his face, and it became top priority to make it invisible. In a moment of creativity, Rangiku had used her softest lipstick on Toshiro, and thank God it didn't show off as much. Problem solved.

  - Good morning, Mister Shunsui.- the smaller Director greeted the large man with a serious frown. -My secretary and I wish to speak with you. Is it possible?

  - Of course, Mister Hitsugaya! Please, come inside and take a seat. Tea?

The pair strolled into the room and politely followed Kyoraku's request, sitting down on the elegant black couch that adorned the office. Rangiku accepted the offering, though Toshiro knew that she disliked the drink.

Once the other occupant of the room settled down with his own cup, he smiled warmly and began a small conversation with Hitsugaya's secretary. She diligently took her time to manipulate the topics on their favor, until the larger Director tiredly sighed and admitted he had a problem regarding his magazine.

  - Oh, sir, you too?

  - Me too? What? Don't tell me you guys also have a problem like mine.

  - I mean, we have a problem, but not that similar to yours, sir. You see, Mister Hitsugaya here is the one with the dilemma. I thought you could help him.

  - Does he, now? What is it, Mister?

Two sets of eyes settled on him, expectantly, and Toshiro repeated the plan in his head. Everything was based on sheer trust for Matsumoto, so he locked his own turquoise eyes on her and nodded, before speaking. This was his move.

  - My team has been busy with their own things, and since a few days ago, I've wanted to write something myself for the newspaper. The problem is, there's... nothing available for me. Matsumoto and I were hoping that you had something to give me as a side work...?

His voice began filled with determination and strenght, but as he spoke more and more, it quivered with doubt and finished sounding more like a question than a request.

Shunsui didn't mind it in any way. In fact, his polite smile turned into a huge grin after listening to him. He clasped his hands together in glee, surprising the white-haired man. Rangiku copied his grin and looked between both males. The plan seemed to be leading to a huge success.

  - Man, that's actually a relief! I got the perfect job for you! I don't think it'll be a problem if a man writes an article for our magazine once.

  - I beg your pardon?- questioned a stunned Toshiro.

  - You see, our department only has one man, which happens to be me. Every journalist, photographer and designer we have is a woman. The magazine is made for girls, anyway, so it makes sense... but lately, our readers have been abandoning us because we're lacking some cool, modern and flashy material. And you fell from Heaven for me, Mister Hitsugaya!

  - Why is that?

  - Please take a look at this paper.

Hitsugaya walked over to Shunsui's desk and gently took the report from his hand. He read it slowly but thoroughly and his eyes widened when he reached the backside.

"Poll results: celebrity request.

3\. Yasutora Sado, [Chad]. Protagonist Actor of 'The Last Fight' Saga.

2\. Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck, [Nel]. Model and Actress.

1\. Kurosaki Ichigo, [Moon Berry]. Emerging DJ Figure."

_Rangiku knew about this_.

  - As you can see, those three are the top among tops. Mister Yasutora would undoubtely give us an interview, but he's in Argentina right now recording the third part of 'The Last Fight'. Nelliel is... hard to find and communicate with. She's extravagant. The hardest option was Ichigo, but like I said, you fell from Heaven for me in this one!

  - ...Why?

  - Because he only accepts male journalists!

**Rangiku FREAKING knew.**

The Director narrowed his eyes at the realization. He reread the paper again, and again, going over Shunsui's words inside his head with unbelieving levels of happiness invading his body. Was it true? Did his secretary really just arrange a...?

  - I'll make a request right away and ask for a formal date so that you two can meet up as soon as possible. I'll need you to show me a reference sheet of the questions you plan to ask him; maybe even Miss Matsumoto here can help you build a nice gossip questionnaire for Mister Kurosaki! Ah, you can't understand just how much you saved me.

The red headed woman excitedly began to talk again with Shunsui about what things they could propose for the meeting, and Toshiro returned the paper to the other man's hand swiftly. He kept his frown and seriousness up, looking as professional as possible for this golden opportunity.

Inside, he was an absolute, uncontrollable mess, but he knew could deal with that in the evening, after he returned home, right? Feelings weren't that hard to manage once he was alone.

♧

He couldn't.

The moment Toshiro closed the door behind him, his bag fell on the carpet alongside his trembling body. He tossed his gray suit to the side, grabbed a fistful of his hair, and even bit his already delicate lower lip.

"This day wasn't real. This day wasn't real. This day isn't real." He chanted in his head, shaking it from side to side as he hugged himself into a ball on the floor. His breathing was unsteady, his cheeks a burning red that was starting to irritate him.

"I can't. No way. I can't face him after what happened. I can't look at his face. I can't have a meeting with him. Please don't be real, don't be real, don't be real..."

His phone vibrated with a notification that snapped him out of his thoughts. He quickly and nervously took it out of his blue bag and lit it up, seeing a message from an unknown number showing on the screen.

"Greetings, this is Shunsui Kyoraku."

Toshiro sighed and slumped down against the wall as he typed a response. He wasn't exactly the person he expected to read.

"Toshiro Hitsugaya reporting in, sir." He wrote, his fingers missing a few letters because of his trembling hands.

The other Director saw and replied to the message almost as quickly as Rangiku. Cell phone maniac.

"I sent an e-mail to Ichigo's manager. I'll show you the reply when it arrives. Good night!" The message ended with a hand waving at him and a smiling moon. Toshiro didn't quite understand the purpose of the moon, but he did get the message of the hand, and he answered likewise.

"Thank you for letting me now. Good night to you." And a waving hand.

The message showed the 'seen' mark, and Hitsugaya, noticing the lack of 'writing' sign, left his phone on the table and walked over to his kitchen, a heavy sigh leaving his lips as he did so.

It was around 9 p.m. by then, and the thought of skipping dinner crossed his mind. He could just go straight to sleep and avoid thinking anymore for that day. Maybe then, he could convince himself that the day didn't happen, and wake up to his life back to normal and on its right path.

He staggered towards his room and slumped on the bed with a hard thump. He rolled over his side and cuddled with the only pillow he had, hugging it tightly and imagining he had human heat by his side.

Snapping his eyes open, he pushed those thoughts to his inner dumpster and erased the mental image that was creeping up his brain. He was going to have a formal meeting with a celebrity and he had to interview him as a professional. They weren't going to... have some sort of out-of-business encounter. This was work related.

But understanding that meant to also understand that the day happened. His mind knew he wasn't dreaming.

An angered growl left Toshiro's dried lips right before he punched the pillow and sent it flying towards the opposite wall of his room. He hated what was going on with himself. He was furious. He didn't want to have feelings, let alone face them, and let alone be half-forced to face them.

Standing up abruptly, he headed back to the kitchen, kicking the pillow when it crossed his way again, and stomped in front of his fridge. He opened it, snatched his last box of milk, and gulped down half of it in one go, a small streak of the white liquid running down the side of his mouth as he did so. He cleaned it with his bare hand, violently scrubbing off the remains of the lipstick too, and the box was once again forgotten inside the refrigerator.

Toshiro's mind was swirling with uncomprehensible thoughts that came and went as he paced around his apartment. He turned on the TV, then inexplicably regretted the idea and turned it off. He changed clothes and got ready to leave for a short walk, then thought otherwise and abandoned the keys on the table, undressing from his coat.

His last idea seemed to be the one to settle in as he grabbed his cell phone and collapsed on his small sofa.

The screen flared to life with a single button, and he unlocked it quicker than usual. Checking his internet, he opened a search tab and typed the first thing that came to mind, his wild impulse unstoppable by that point.

"Ichigo Kurosaki"

The first thing that popped up was a short biography of the now famous DJ. Second, the suggestion of the image search. This caught his eyes, and he opened it almost without thinking. A long thread of photos showed themselves to his eyes, and he could feel his cheeks turning an even brighter red than before.

  - So this... this is you...- he whispered.

The difference between the DJ and the actual person was big.

Toshiro browsed between the photos, taking in every detail with uncharacteristic interest. Bright orange hair, brown eyes, taned skin, well toned body, masculine chin, constant frown... was Ichigo a model at some point? A few pictures seemed to reflect that, showing him with distinctly fashionable clothes and a powerful gaze at the camera, while the rest of his body posed spectacularly. Judging by everything, if the Director hadn't known better, he would've thought Kurosaki was a stripper or something like that.

He went back to the main search tab and read a few of the available articles. Shunsui wasn't kidding; there wasn't one thing made by a female interviewer. There were pages written by women, yes, but you could read at the end that the person who went and asked Ichigo the questions was a man.

The Director found a particular page that got his attention. It had different questions from the others, concerning his professional career more than his private life. It was curious to see how every step he had taken resulted in a big success only because he was "lucky". He met the right people in the right place, and continued to do so until he got close enough to the top. That's where he was now.

One remarkable sentence caught Hitsugaya's eyes.

" **What's the question you hate being asked, Mister Kurosaki?** "

"I don't think I hate any question in particular, honestly. (...) It's uncomfortable to answer love-related ones, if I have to admit. I'm not the best at giving tips, you know? (Laughs)"

Toshiro widened his eyes and quickly scrambled to get his notebook. If he was to make a good impression, he had to mark every possible chance to screw it up and avoid those at all costs.

Everyone asked him about his brother and their relationship. For some reason, they also liked to annoy him with "why don't you have a contract with a big company yet?"; he had also detected a mountain of "when are you planning to make another tour?", to which Ichigo's answer was permanently a negation. The Director managed to write down at least 7 questions that could not, for any reason, be included in the script.

Now he had to get creative enough to make new, original statements that replaced the forbidden ones.

The white-haired male grabbed his chin with his unused hand, deep in thought, as he scribbled down a brainstorm of ideas. His cell phone was half forgotten beside him, the screen slowly darkening as time passed, Ichigo's official photo showing on it.

Toshiro frowned as his pen ran out of ink about ten minutes later, and was forced to stop writing when his brain was working better than ever.

He would have to buy a new pen as soon as possible. Sighing, he debated whether to call it a day, go to sleep and stop being irrational, or keep writing with his phone until his mind became dry. He grabbed the device and questioned his options internally, but when it flared to life again, showing that nice picture once again, he froze.

"It won't hurt to make some more research." He concluded, settling down on the sofa sideways and continuing to scroll through the official page of the DJ.

He didn't realize the moment he had fallen asleep.

◇

The whistle of a mechanic bird snapped Director Shunsui's attention out of his heated argument against his old friends, Yoruichi and Kisuke, who had invited him over to their house to have a small drinking party. He excused himself to attend the incoming message his phone had received, claiming one last time that the Pyramids were made by aliens before exiting the room.

He heard laughter coming from Yoruichi, alongside the scream of her blonde husband and the sound of something breaking. Other voices laughed, too, and Shunsui felt tempted to go back inside and see what mess Kisuke had made two seconds after he left, but a quick glance at the screen wiped his drunk state away.

2:33 in the morning, and apparently, Kurosaki Ogichi either was a very busy manager who took his job too seriously, or he couldn't sleep during that night and found nothing better than to answer his inquiry inmediately.

What Kyoraku read wasn't what he expected, though. He didn't get a confirmation nor a negation of the interview, which would've been the common situation. Instead, he received a mail of doubts, questions and finally a chance of a meeting, but with several restrictions and a warning that it wouldn't be any time before next week. The man also reminded the journalist that his brother would only accept certain people to speak with him, a condition he already knew... except for the fact that now it said "certain people" instead of "male individuals".

Did something happen between those two?

Confused and at a loss of words, he scratched the back of his neck and tried to think of a response for the Manager, feeling guilty to leave the mail hanging after the other man went out of his way to answer quickly. He would first need to talk with Hitsugaya about the restrictions which, althought they could be easily met, presented a slight discomfort for the environment of the interview. First, Ogichi would choose the location. Second, Ichigo had the right to refuse answering whatever question he wanted to avoid. Third, the magazine had to send a sample of the finished product before its publishing date, and could only be submitted if the twins approved it.

However, what worried Kyoraku the most, and enough to take away his desire to keep drinking with his friends, was the fourth condition. Toshiro would now face both the DJ, Ichigo Kurosaki... and his Manager, Ogichi Kurosaki, _in the same room_.

...Why didn't he ignore the damn bird?

♡

 


End file.
